Disarmed
by MeltingSunlight
Summary: It had been a surprise to see the woman after thinking she was dead for two years, but with Ron's loss still constricting her heart, she couldn't find it within herself to either hate nor fear the woman. In fact, she had invited her into her home, shared two bottles of red wine with her and then slept with her without even the slightest bit of hesitation.


Bellatrix disarmed her casually as she entered her bedroom.

"Well I've had warmer welcomes. Is that really still necessary?" The brunette asked flatly, too exhausted from the day she'd just endured to really put any feeling into her protests.

"Force of habit." The ex death eater drawled as the wand rolled across the dark wooden floor and halfway under the bed, watching Hermione closely as she pulled her long black cloak off and draped it over the back of the chair at her writing desk.

"And by that I assume you mean 'don't try to pick it up'" The younger witch was well aware of how things went between them on these nights.

"Naturally. Good day at work, I see."

Hermione stopped fiddling with the buttons on her blouse and gave the woman a long look. Bellatrix wasn't one for small talk, however sarcastic.

Knowing what the brunette was thinking, Bellatrix scowled faintly.

"I was only trying to be nice."

Hermione snorted. "Hmf. Things _must_ be bad. Or is it Christmas?" She tilted her head and squinted into the middle distance pretending to think.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I'll refrain in the future."

Hermione discarded of her shirt and opened the button holding her black jeans in place. She considered the woman reclining on her bed for a second. "You're here early. Did you miss me?"

"Just because I prefer to be punctual."

"I'm not sure 48 hours early counts as being any more punctual than 48 hours late."

Bellatrix studied her black nail polish. "Fine, if you must know, I thought you might appreciate some company given the date."

Now Hermione was slightly alarmed. "That's... Worryingly thoughtful. Thank you."

"Happy birthday." It sounded more like a challenge than a well-wish.

"Thank you." The younger witch repeated, in uncharted territory. Her 20th birthday had so far been uneventful and quiet- just how she liked it.

Bellatrix looked like she was debating whether to say more. After a few moments of idly watching Hermione throw her jeans on top of her White blouse she wetted her lips and said uncharacteristically tentatively, "And... Sorry." She mumbled the word into her long curls as she feigned looking over the side of the bed for Hermione's wand. Hermione tensed, not looking directly at the other witch. She hadn't known she knew.

She stared at the other witch slightly too long and taking it as a prompt to speak, she sighed. "It _has_ been a year, has it not?"

Hermione swallowed. It had indeed been a year since Ron had died, protecting her life after the dregs of Voldemort's followers attacked her muggle home during the celebrations. Harry had been badly injured but had survived with no lasting damage, but Ron had taken a killing curse meant for her whilst pushing her out of its way. She was the only one of the trio not to have a scratch on her when it was over, even her father had suffered a concussion.

Maybe that's why she craved Bellatrix so much; so the dark witch could put those scratches on her that she should have gotten that night. She sighed audibly.

"Yes." She answered simply, lighting the fire in the hearth wandlessly.

The previously dim room glowed a friendly amber and Hermione turned her back to Bellatrix's silently observing eyes and opened her wardrobe to find a night dress. The fire warmed her bare skin pleasantly and she felt the stress of the job she held within the ministry slowly start to ease away. Her searching hands stilled amongst the hanging garments as familiar arms came around her waist and despite herself, she leaned back into them. Something about Bellatrix had become so overwhelmingly comforting that she could no longer stop herself, which was more than likely why every Friday when she arrived home from work she would find the woman sitting casually on her bed, wand out, ready to disarm her the second she entered the room.

Bellatrix gently pulled Hermione backwards, away from the wardrobe and towards her bed, making a note to ask her about the green and sliver covers. Hermione let herself be led and fell down with a soft sound onto the same side of the bed that Bellatrix had previously been stretched out on, wondering how Harry would react if he could see her now. She pushed the idea from her mind and instead focused on Bellatrix's beautiful dark eyes as they looked over her.

"You get skinnier every time I see you." She remarked, her voice unusually tender. "Do you not get a lunch break?"

As a matter of fact, Hermione _did_ get a lunch break, todays of which she had spent the majority of sitting crying on the floor in the corner of her office clutching a picture of her, Harry and Ron, her heart breaking a little more with each little wave, smile, and playful nudge they gave each other. It had only been taken about a month before Ron had died.

She suddenly felt she wasn't alone in her head. "Are you in my thoughts again?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth to lie but thought better of it. The truth was apparently written all over her face.

" _Damn it_ , Bella!"

"I'm trying to help, I'm still learning." She defended.

Hermione found herself oddly appreciative of the sentiment and at the same time Bellatrix found herself equally saddened by the brief images she'd seen pass through the young witch's mind.

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding slowly.

"I don't want to think anymore." She murmured, pulling Bellatrix's face down by gently tugging at the ends of the stray curls that were tickling her bare shoulders.

That was fair enough, Bellatrix thought, she had plenty of days like that herself.

Her lips met the Gryffindor's lightly at first and then more firmly. She could almost feel how much the younger woman wanted to forget. Now deft with practice, Hermione began what had at first been the seemingly impossible task of undoing Bellatrix's corset without even needing to look. The first time this had happened, Hermione had been walking home from work late one evening in the driving rain, too apathetic about her own well being to use a charm to shield herself from the water or the bitter cold.

Bellatrix had, for a reason she was still ignorant to as she had never asked, been walking quite openly down the street in the opposite direction and as they had drawn near enough to one another to register the opposite face, they had both come to a stop, both half drowned and neither one of them looking like they cared.

It had been a surprise to see the woman after thinking she was dead for two years, but with Ron's loss still constricting her heart, she couldn't find it within herself to either hate nor fear the woman. In fact, she had invited her into her home, shared two bottles of red wine with her and then slept with her without even the slightest bit of hesitation. It had just happened.

She knew deep down she'd done it to be purposefully reckless; that was, at least, her reason for inviting Bellatrix inside, anyway. She wasn't sure what had fuelled the rest other than the obvious alcohol and lust.

She'd never asked questions. Other than the fact that Bellatrix was alive, not as bad as she thought, and that she regularly turned up at her house and stayed the night, Hermione didn't know a single other thing about her life as it was now.

On that first night though, with alcohol clouding her mind and numbing cold still rooted in the bones in her fingers, the corset had very nearly gotten a taste of bombarda maxima for its troubles.

Now Hermione was already discarding of it.

Bellatrix's mouth was the more dominant one tonight and Hermione was glad of it- she wanted to just let go and follow the Slytherin's lead without any mind-work what so ever.

Bellatrix could sense it and was more than happy to oblige. Hermione made quick work of the rest of her lover's clothes and slowly ran her finger tips down the soft skin of Bellatrix's exposed back, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the older witch arched into her, their torso's brushing lightly.

"Bella…" She murmured between breaths, slipping her free hand beneath the black lace that covered the woman's breasts and gently pinching her nipple. Bellatrix groaned quietly and nipped at Hermione's lower lip. Unable to stay patient with the provocation, the dark witch pulled Hermione into a sitting position, her lips not leaving the brunette's for a second, and unhooked the red bra that was so desperately in the way. It was flung across the room and Hermione was immediately pushed back down against the bed, Bellatrix following. Hermione's slender fingers curled in Bellatrix's hair as the woman slowly moved her attentions to her jaw and neck, taking her time to kiss and bite every inch of the sensitive skin. Hermione tilted her head away from her lover and Bellatrix took advantage of her unguarded neck, leaning in with the intention to leave a mark that would serve as a reminder of her for at least a week.

Hermione gasped quietly as Bella's soft lips clamped down with notable force on the most vulnerable part of the younger girl's neck, unable to stop herself from squirming beneath her as pleasure mixed with ribbons of pain told her that the Slytherin was going to leave a dark hickey.

When Bellatrix pulled away, satisfied that the mark wasn't going to fade any time soon, she carried on her journey down Hermione's body until she found her collarbone, giving it the same attentions as she had her neck, leaving softly burning bruises littered along it's length.

Hermione's free hand tangled in the sheets as Bellatrix's tongue found a hardened nipple and her nails ran dangerously down Hermione's stomach. The brunette whimpered lowly as the throbbing between her thighs became more pronounced.

Bellatrix let her hand wander ahead of her further down the younger woman's body, tracing small circles over her pale skin. When she was sure Hermione was moments away from hitting her for her prolonged teasing, Bellatrix sat back and pulled the Gryffindor's panties off as if they might burn her if they stayed a second longer. Hermione's eyes were darker than Bellatrix remembered and glazed over slightly with want as she stared at the ex death eater. Bellatrix found it quite an attractive combination to say the least.

Not wanting to make her wait any longer, Bellatrix pushed the woman's knees apart and whilst watching Hermione's eyes flutter closed, leaned down and kissed along the inside of her left thigh, running her nails down the inside of the other.

Hermione whimpered again, louder this time, and Bellatrix gave in and rang her tongue lightly over the brunette's clit, enjoying watching her muscles tense and hearing the hushed moan of her name.

She repeated the agonisingly minimal movement until Hermione couldn't take any more.

"Bella, please…"

The dark witch, under any other circumstance, would have greatly enjoyed coaxing Hermione to beg her further before giving her what she wanted. However, it _was_ her birthday.

Without any further warning she slipped two fingers into her lover and Hermione's hiss turned into a loud moan.

"Oh my god, Bella…"

Bellatrix ran her tongue a little harder over Hermione's clit and matched it expertly with the rhythm she had with her fingers until the younger witch was moaning a colourful combination of curses and her lover's name under each laboured breath.

Hermione's muscles tensed more and more as heat coiled in her abdomen and she forgot to breathe altogether as the release she desperately needed began to build.

" _Bella-_ "

Bellatrix cut her off with a sharp curl of her fingers and the brunette's back arched from the bed as she came undone, her eyes tightly closed and her lips parted in a lustful cry to god.

Bellatrix might not have admitted it to the other witch out loud, but Hermione really was exceptionally beautiful.

Bellatrix came to lie beside the other woman as her back settled back against the bed, her body glowing in the firelight. Pulling the suspiciously Slytherin coloured covers around them- she never had asked about that-, the older witch wrapped her arms around the Gryffindor and guided her to lie her head against the dark witch's chest. Bellatrix ran her fingers absent-mindedly through her hair.

"Bella?" The younger witch asked sleepily.

"Mmm?"

"That first night… Why were you out in the rain?"

Bellatrix felt a weight in her heart as she dropped her gaze to the half sleeping woman in her arms. She saw no reason to lie. "I was just hoping… I don't know, that someone would see me, kill me off if I was lucky. Anything. I was tired of hiding."

Hermione didn't open her eyes. "Where do you live when you're not here?"

"Spain." The dark witch answered simply.

Hermione was vaguely surprised that it was so far, though she wasn't sure what she had expected. Bella _was_ supposed to be dead, after all, she was hardly going to be living in London.

"Why don't you just stay here… The house _is_ rather… Well secluded." In fact, Hermione's less than modest house- if it could be called a house without understating- was situated deep in the English countryside slap-bang in the middle of nowhere. She had become a private person over the last few years, as well as rather wealthy with her incredibly quick progression in rank within the Ministry.

"Now there's an offer I'll have to seriously consider taking you up on." Bellatrix said truthfully, closing her own eyes. Really, the idea of staying with Hermione sounded a hell of a lot less lonely than living alone in rural Spain. Less lonely, and more entertaining.

Feeling like that was a good enough answer for the time, Hermione found the sound of Bella's heartbeat to be lulling and slowly drifted into a much more peaceful sleep than she had expected to have that evening.


End file.
